


Beware the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

by kafrickinboom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Angst, Apocalypse, Background Relationships, Badass Mila, Body Horror, Dystopia, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lots of Angst, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Salami is the focal relationship, Science Fiction, They're still skaters though, WIP, Work In Progress, all others are, feelings of betrayal, it will get better i promise, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: She remembered the way the head of the Wolf’s puppet swiveled back and forth first like it was getting a feel for the fit, followed by twitching fingers, then the swinging arms, then shifting on borrowed legs, shaking the feet out to round it all off. It was like it was getting a feel for a human center gravity, as it staggered forward a few steps before catching itself on the building beside it. When it found its footing, it stood up straight, reaching back to the gaping wounds on its puppet. Mila jumped as something shot out of the palm, watched as it trailed up the gash, healing it somehow. It was too far and too dark in the late afternoon to see anything more than the vague shapes of skin knitting itself together. She couldn’t even see if there was a mark left or if it healed so perfectly that you wouldn’t know anything had happened. Once done, it straightened to its full height, cheerily strolling off to do gods know what in its new skin.---Or, the alien invasion fic no one asked for.





	Beware the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luciferswife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferswife/gifts).



> This started as a smut prompt that VERY QUICKLY spiraled out of control in my mind. While there _will_ be smut, it won't happen for a while.

Mila was booking it as fast as she could, running for her life, desperately looking for somewhere safe enough that she she could take shelter in for the night. 

Eight months after The Report, she still couldn’t believe this was happening. Aliens were supposed to be something from science fiction or something, and even if they  _ were _ real, they were supposed to come in peace, right? Fucking wrong. 

Apparently, they’d been walking among humans for almost two decades, hiding in the skins of those they’d deemed strong enough to carry them. It all came out when their ships started orbiting the planet and some human in NASA went against their commander’s orders, leaking the info to their cousin or someone like that who worked for MSNBC. The NASA employee and the reporter were found dead within hours of each other, and ships began landing within a day of the news report. 

The commander or leader or whatever the hell you want to call her came forward on every news channel, streamed live on the internet, translated in every language, in every country. They’d apparently infiltrated their way into very sort of person, ranging from politicians and a couple country leaders to doctors and scientists to blue collar workers to all forms of athletes. Athletes like the ones Mila worked with day in and day out, like the ice skater whom she’d considered one of her closest friends. 

She slammed her eyes shut for a moment, choking back the tears as she thought about Sara Crispino- if that was even her name. 

She remembered the day vividly. She and Sara had been sitting in her living room when the news report came on the TV. She’d ignored it for the first minute or so, distracted by the bright, violet eyes and the way Sara’s soft skin glowed in the mid-afternoon sun streaming through her window. She remembered wondering what would happen if she just pressed her lips against Sara’s - what would she do? How would she react? Would she press back or would she run away? Mila wondered if she would ever find the courage to just  _ tell _ Sara how she felt. Sara flew all the way from Italy to Russia for the sole purpose of visiting her, so maybe Sara’s feelings weren’t far off from what she felt. 

She also remembered how Sara had tensed, her wide eyes glued to the TV. Mila had torn her focus from studying her best friend to see what was so interesting. And then the information flooded in. Aliens were real. And there were a ton of them circling Earth. And there were allusions made that they could already be among humans. Mila had laughed, turning to Sara to share her amusement and almost fell off the couch in her shock at what she’d seen.

Sara was smiling in a nervous, tentative,  _ hopeful _ way, but her violet eyes were  _ glowing, _ and pupils weren’t the usual circular,  _ human _ shape. They were sort of like a horizontal version of a cat’s. Mila had scrambled to the edge of the couch, putting as much distance between herself and Sa- whatever her ‘friend’ was. Mila had shouted as ‘Sara’ tried approached her like  _ she _ was the beast who needed to be handled with care. Mila remembered the hurt expression on Sara’s face- her smile wavering before it fell, drained of whatever hope she’d had, a look of acceptance fitted to her face as her eyes filled with tears- when she’d whimpered in fear. Mila remembered the way Sara sobbed like she was pained when Mila flinched away from her as she passed. Mila remembered how she froze stock still when Sara ran through the door, not even pausing to shut the door. 

Mila hadn’t seen her since that day. She hadn’t heard from her at all. She’d tried calling Sara the next day to apologize after the chaos settled in her mind, when she realized Sara genuinely didn’t mean any harm. Given, at the time, Mila hadn’t known the process by which these aliens took over human bodies (they called themselves the Yakshi; humans had started calling them Wolves- like a wolf in sheep’s clothing). 

Mila had only seen it twice, and she equally wished she could bleach her brain of the memories and wanted to remember them in vivid detail so she never forgot what to look out for. 

She remembered the horror she felt the first time she saw a Wolf outside a human shell. It was nothing like the beautiful or interesting beings she’d played with and even  _ romanced _ while playing Mass Effect. It wasn’t short, squat and gentle like E.T. It wasn’t a humanoid thing like Superman or Mork from Mork & Mindy. It had the basic shape of the cute, little green aliens that were the popular image of what an alien looked like pre-Report...without being cute, little or green. 

It was roughly the same height as a human, but its body was thin, compact in a way that belied its actual strength. When the sunlight hit it, it was iridescent like an oil spill, a bit of beauty among the ugly features. Mila remembered being vaguely curious about the science behind how Wolves kept their balance, frowning at the head that seemed bulbous in comparison to its body. They had long arms and legs that ended in in sharp points like four deadly, bendable spears. No hands. No feet. No stabilizing nails or claws or whatever. Mila hadn’t gotten a good look at its face as it was stalking after some poor, helpless man, back turned to her. 

She remembered wanting to call out to the man, to warn him, but keeping silent so she would remain hidden. She remembered the poor guy’s scream cut short as the-the  _ thing _ lunged at his back, using its long, spindly arm to cut into the back of the guy’s neck before sharply slashing midway down his back. Mila remembered her eyes flying so wide it almost hurt and the nausea she felt at the wet crunch, her terrified eyes unable to look away as the Wolf jabbed its arm up into the cut at the neck, doing something Mila couldn’t quite make out from the distance she kept before ripping back out. Mila’d had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle the desire to scream as the corpse’s head collapse, the skull tossed haphazardly to the side without any fucking thought, like the man was a disposable piece of garbage unworthy of care or regret. Mila remembered sending a quick, silent prayer to her deity to watch over his soul as she continued to watch the Wolf dispose of more apparently unnecessary parts before stepping in like a fucking morphsuit. It ended the process by standing stock still for, like, 10 whole minutes. Mila had refused to leave until she saw it through, until she saw the transformation completed. 

She remembered the way the head of the Wolf’s puppet swiveled back and forth first like it was getting a feel for the fit, followed by twitching fingers, then the swinging arms, then shifting on borrowed legs, shaking the feet out to round it all off. It was like it was getting a feel for a human center gravity, as it staggered forward a few steps before catching itself on the building beside it. When it found its footing, it stood up straight, reaching back to the gaping wounds on its puppet. Mila jumped as something shot out of the palm, watched as it trailed up the gash, healing it somehow. It was too far and too dark in the late afternoon to see anything more than the vague shapes of skin knitting itself together. She couldn’t even see if there was a mark left or if it healed so perfectly that you wouldn’t know anything had happened. Once done, it straightened to its full height, cheerily strolling off to do gods know what in its new skin.

The other time she saw it, it was significantly worse than the first due to a few reasons. One, the man had pleaded with it to let him leave in peace, that he didn’t want anything from it more than freedom. Two, she recognized the voice- it was Georgi Popovich, the boy she’d grown up alongside. He was someone who, up until then, she’d prayed he stayed safe. Three, watching someone you considered family die a brutal, unforgiving death was something that shook you to the core, rearranging the things that made you a person into something different- suspicious, cold, maybe stronger, definitely harder. Knowing that a loved one’s body was being actively desecrated, being used as clothing for these fucking Wolves was nauseating. She felt the bile rise every time she thought of Georgi’s terrified face streaked with tears, sobbing and  _ begging _ for his life. Afterward, Mila vowed to kill every fucker she’d come across and to never,  _ ever _ beg. It undoubtedly stole every chance Mila had of ever smiling again.

Still, she thanked every deity she could think of that she’d made it out alive both times. She didn’t want to imagine what they would have done if they’d caught her watching.

Now, she slowed her run to a jog, hopping the fence of one of the unmarked houses. She’d found out the hard way that the Wolves were in control of emergency systems, so any house with residential security or building that had an alarm was out of the question. She pulled her pistol out of the back of her pants and silencer out of her pocket, screwing it on quickly, turning off the safety with her finger at the ready as she swept the perimeter and checking in the windows for any weird activity. Wolves didn’t usually travel alone, acting like their namesake in the sense that they prefered to be with others of their ‘pack,’ and they typically strayed closer to highly populated areas, but still. Mila wasn’t leaving a single thing to fate.

She gently set her gun at her feet, pointing away from her body, of course, pulling out one of the lock pick sets she hoarded in her backpack. As soon as she was in, she hastily pocketed the set, picked the gun up and did an internal sweep. Again, Mila didn’t like leaving anything to fate.

Confirming the all clear, she shoved all the clothes in the master bedroom closet to the side, grabbed all of the blankets off the bed, closed the sliding door tightly, jamming it with the piece of wood she kept with her at all times (she’d learned months ago the importance of creating a lock for a door where there was none). She settled in for restless sleep, dreaming of all the people she had still yet to hear from and Georgi and a Wolf slicing into Sara and using her as a puppet (as if she wasn’t one already) and the faceless man who’d become another unassuming puppet among the steadily dying human population.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave comments, questions and any little things you'd like to see in future chapters. This is going to be a little project fic, so suggestions are always welcome! x


End file.
